Pairing: G/S

Rating: R. Not for the romance, but because I'll be doing nasty things to dead people later on.

Summary : The CSI team are visiting London for a conference, but soon find themselves drawn into investigating a prolific serial killer.

Spoilers : Not that I know of.

Disclaimer : I don't own CSI, or any of the characters within it. None of the other characters are based on real life people. In other words: Sir John Stevens, the Commissioner in this story isn't you, please don't sue me.

Thanks : The creators of CSI, the scientific websites I became unaccountably obsessed with, and a big nod to Agatha Christie (for reasons which will become clear later on)

Note : This is my first crime story, my first fanfic and my first ship. I'd really appreciate constructive feedback on this! I've set this in London simply because I live there, that should also account for Anglicised spellings. Also, I defy anyone to guess where the quote in the title is from! (All will be revealed...)

The Mourning Harp

The CSIs filed into the room wondering why Grissom had called an urgent meeting of them all. They found him already seated there, and took their seats. It had been a successful week, with two complicated cases solved by their skills, and they were secretly hoping that a little "CSI celebration" would be in order. Grissom went one better than that.

"Hey guys. Congratulations to you all on solving our last two cases, you put in some good work there. Now I have some good news for you," he smiled 'round the group, "I just had a call from England. In a week's time they're hosting a forensic science conference in London and they've invited the team to speak on our use of forensics in the USA. Apparently the London Metropolitan Police is very keen to adopt American practices and reduce their crime rate. So, you get a free trip abroad, courtesy of Her Majesty's Government, and the chance to see how our opposite numbers do their jobs. What do you think?"

"Hey man, if someone else will pay for it, I'll go anywhere you want. I'm up for it." Nick was the first to reply. Warrick and Sara also made enthusiastic noises, thinking that a break from Las Vegas would be an ideal refresher after the last week. Only Catherine seemed hesitant.

"I don't know...I'll have to find somewhere for Lindsey to stay. How long will we be gone for?"

"I'd say about a week, maybe two. Maybe Greg could look after her? The invite is only for us five. None of you has to make a decision right away, let me know in the next day or so whether you want to go. Now, we need to clear that case of the suspicious drowning so let's get going."

They all left the room with a buzz of excitement.

It was all settled; Grissom, Sara, Nick, Warrick and Catherine were all going to London for the conference. Greg was disappointed he couldn't go, but cheered up when Grissom said he could go next time, and agreed to look after Lindsey, promising not to let her eat too much junk food.

It was July, so they all packed light clothing, raincoats and 'work' clothes, hoping for some sightseeing time. They met at the airport, checked in, and waited for their flight to arrive. They had all been given seats near each other on the plane, though the lady at the check-in desk said that two were together and three in the middle of the plane, further back. Shuffling through the tickets, Nick and Warrick took two seats together, and with an evil grin, Catherine took the last one, leaving Grissom and Sara sitting together for the whole flight. The other CSIs had long been hoping that those two would finally get it together - maybe this little jaunt would do the trick at last. Sara though looked less than pleased with her seating companion, and cast imploring looks at the others while Grissom studied a forensic journal, oblivious.

"Think of it this way, you can talk about bugs together," suggested Warrick.

Sara sighed to herself. That was just the trouble, bugs - work - was all they could talk about. She'd been attracted to the man for so long, and had dared to hope he felt the same, but lately he just treated her like a forensic automaton, and avoided working with her whenever he could.

They boarded the plane, and brought out their books, music and - in Grissom's case, dead insect collection - in preparation for the ten hour flight to London. At first, Sara felt uncomfortable having to sit close by Grissom for such a long time, but as he was absorbed in his insects and apparently ignoring her, she relaxed and started reading her book on the history of policing in England.

Grissom stuck the last label onto his bug collection and admired his work for a while. He soon found his gaze drifting over his left shoulder to the woman who sat there. He found himself admiring her perfect face, and remembering the many times she had surprised him with her knowledge and devotion. How he wished theirs was more than a working relationship, but that could never happen - he was her boss, and too old for her besides. Not that that stopped the longing, but he hoped he would be able to suppress that in time. A smile played over his face as he saw the title of the book she was reading - she was as dedicated as he was.

Sara looked up to see him staring at her and said, "What's so funny?"

"Just your book. I noticed the others had airport trash novels, but you've brought a tome on police history."

"It's really interesting, as it so happens. Did you know that in England cops are called bobbies and peelers after Sir Robert Peel, the founder of their police force?"

"They also call them the Old Bill. Can I borrow that once you're done?"

"Sure."

They sat for the rest of the journey in companionable silence, occasionally reading to each other snippets from the books they were reading. Both realised that this was the most relaxed they had been around each other for a long time, and looked forward to the conference. Eventually, just as everyone was thinking of trying to sleep, the air hostess announced that they would shortly arrive in Heathrow airport, and advised them to adjust their watches. As they stepped out of the plane, stretching their legs, they realised it was drizzling with rain.

"But its July!" Nick complained, while the others just shrugged - they'd heard tales of British weather before. It was midnight in London, and they took a cab to their hotel off Oxford Street using the vouchers the Met had kindly sent. They were all so weary by the time they reached their hotel that they just took their room keys and went straight to bed without really noticing their location.

The next morning was overcast, but dry and as the conference didn't start until the next day, everyone wanted to go sightseeing. The only problem was that they all wanted to go to different places. Grissom naturally wanted to visit the Natural History Museum; Catherine wanted the classic tourist trio of Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace; Nick and Warrick wanted to look at Soho and Sara liked the idea of the Science Museum. So, they decided to split up. Following advice from the concierge, Catherine caught a bus to Whitehall from Oxford Street, while the others walked to Piccadilly Circus. From there, Grissom and Sara caught a number 14 bus as their museums were side by side, and Warrick and Nick walked off to visit Leicester Square and Soho.

Everyone enjoyed themselves. Catherine saw pageantry and history; Sara enjoyed the gruesome implements charting medical history; Grissom liked the bugs he found, while Nick and Warrick found Soho considerably less sleazy than they had imagined and met two pretty expats who were delighted to hear a familiar accent. Everyone just about managed to find their way back to the hotel, where everyone promptly got an early night as the conference started early the next morning.

The next day they made their way to the conference centre. The hall was full of scientists of many nationalities, and as they walked in they were greeted by the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Service, who looked weary but delighted to see them.

"We're very keen on being up-to-date and getting rid of the days of doing miracles with the proverbial two pieces of string and a coathanger. We're thinking of implementing some of the ideas Mayor Giuliani used in New York, and we're delighted to be able to share in your expertise. I'm sure many of the delegates here will want to talk to you so I won't monopolise your time, but expect to see me around." A police officer in uniform approached the Commissioner then, and whispered something to him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid something rather urgent has just come up," he said, looking worried, and dashed away.

The team soon mingled with the crowd, engaging in animated conversation with fellow specialists, and visiting the stalls to see if there was any new forensic equipment that the lab needed. The hall was packed, and all the CSIs found themselves enjoying the talk of crimes solved and evidence uncovered.

Grissom was in the middle of a conversation about maggots when the Commissioner appeared at his side. He excused himself from the conversation and greeted the officer.

"Investigator Grissom, I'm sorry I had to dash away like that, but something has happened. To be honest I need a favour. I found out that someone has been murdered and, well, this is the itenth/i similar murder since November. The media are going to start frothing at the mouth about police incompetence but to be frank, we're all out of clues to catch this killer. I know this is a big thing to ask but I think that having fresh minds and a different way of working might just crack this case. We'll pay all your expenses. Please, would you consider helping us?"

"I'll have to ask my team," Grissom replied, inwardly feeling excited at the prospect of tracking a serial killer. They searched through the hall until they found all the others, and explained the request.

"A prolific serial? I'll help, best we catch this guy quickly, right?" said Sara, and the others agreed. Besides which a serial killer was the most challenging and interesting of all the cases, and a chance to work somewhere different for a while would be an experience to savour.

"Thank you, all of you," said the Commissioner, looking relieved, "We need to catch this man - ten murders and we're still in the dark! I only hope you catch him before he kills again."

TBC

Sidenote: those bus routes? they're all correct ones...I know, I'm pathetic.